


Curvature

by Omoidaseru



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: First Kisses, M/M, Pining, hella gay tbh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-01
Updated: 2014-08-01
Packaged: 2018-02-11 07:55:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2060118
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Omoidaseru/pseuds/Omoidaseru
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He doesn't know when he started thinking of Nishinoya in terms of poetry, but there's something to be said about how he feels when even his literature marks go up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Curvature

**Author's Note:**

> This is really gay I'm so sorry  
> [I'm not there needs to be more of this ship]  
> EDIT THO GDI I DIDN'T REALISE HOW MESSED UP IT DISPLAYED-

Tension is as tension does, which is something even Tanaka can appreciate, as low on his list of importance metaphysical existence is. He’s also not that fond of thinking about things that should, by all means, remain the same, things he takes for granted as things that just are, but there comes a time when everything changes. Tanaka is aware, so very fucking aware that he’s an average guy in most senses of the word, that there’s little he would have to offer in the way of incentive for prospective partners.

Like all teenage boys, he’s a mix of bravado and insecurity and the way Kiyoko sometimes looks at him hurts as much as it thrills the fickle nature of hormones. He’d like to think that in a universe where she didn’t have eyes for a man better than him in all ways possible, he might have a chance of being a friend, rather than just an underclassmen. As things stand, she’s an idol of another league and Tanaka has found himself falling for a worshipper of the same lost cause.

If Kiyoko is the moon, a pale beauty beyond compare, then Nishinoya is the cliché sun, the one that rises and falls along side Tanaka’s own curvature. He’s the deity, the god of his own manor and respect does not even begin to cover what he has come to covet - admiration implies that Tanaka wants to be Nishinoya, when in reality he thinks he likes being with him more. Where Kiyoko is the untouchable, Nishinoya is the hand that reaches out with a warm caress and lifts, salvation and a thousand hallelujahs to restore your soul.

(He doesn’t know when he started thinking of Nishinoya in terms of poetry, but there’s something to be said about how he feels when even his literature marks go up.)

He’s not a man without courage, so the reality of reaching out, touch soft (he imagines) lips with his own, curve his fingers around a smooth (he knows) jaw line and claim what he wants, make Nishinoya know without words and (he hopes) live happily ever after.

A smile comes to his lips when he thinks of this, turning to a mad cackle when the image of Yuu as a fairy princess, of all things, take the forefront of his mind and, gods, the yells directed at him from the teacher blowing steam at the front of the room just cannot stop the childish glee. Maybe the only chance he has to be the prince does come with telling Nishinoya, but he’s not quite royalty and there’s nothing appealing about the role of the jester.

There was a moment when the moon shone off Nishinoya’s hair on the slow walk home that Tanaka almost told him everything, confessed his sins at the alter, but clouds covered the sky and he remained mute in all but the stupidest of manners, enthusiastically describing all the ways spiking is the best feeling in the world while imaging that kissing Nishinoya would top it each and every time.

(He misses the way Nishinoya slows his pace down to make the walk last longer, the nervous twitch at every Noya-san spoken and instead focuses on the way Nishinoya does not look at him at all.)

They part, they sleep in separate beds and repeat the process the next day, and the next, and the next and Tanaka is bursting at the seams by this point, fists clenching, eyes dilated and breath uneven and he’s burning up with want of something he just can’t bear to touch. Contrary to popular belief, his own included, he’s not foolish enough to think that he can suppress these feelings forever.

Give and take doesn’t apply so much as bend and break, the time of which nears with every stupid enthusiastic Ryuu that he hears from lips he wants, shimmying hips depositing uniform on the floor to be replaced with shorts he is so damn aware are too short, even on a figure like that and yeah. Tanaka Ryuunosuke is an impulsive guy, but giving in is something he can’t do for the sake of friendship.

He won’t.

He can’t take it any more.

He counts down the minutes, seconds, infinity reached until he can reach out, tug a still surprisingly slender frame against his and give in after long last, stiffness and distraction in all movements he makes and Daichi is pissed by the time practise ends, but he’s burning ever hotter smoking ever higher and finally, finally, they’re alone, down streets so familiar, about to tread in territory so absolutely thrilling. He curls his fingers around the edge of Nishinoya’s sleeve, gives a gentle tug towards a beautifully empty side street and takes.

After so long wanting, he’s not left it, hand gripping to Nishinoya’s face and lips almost definitely too rough on the others, but there’s a triumphant roar in his chest that notes no resistance, an eager tongue paving way to unexplored continents, a small hand curling in his jacket to pull him closer and, most important of all, a breathy voice murmuring ‘You take your damn time, Ryuu.’

It’s a mistake he’ll work hard to rectify in the future, but the present is enough of one for now.


End file.
